


that was unexpected

by BobithenRoss



Category: Minecraft- video game, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Enemies to Lovers, Fantasy AU, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, King!George, M/M, Multi, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, assasin!dream, assasin!sapnap, potential major character death, they're soft but they pretend not to be
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:42:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27691579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BobithenRoss/pseuds/BobithenRoss
Summary: Dream was supposed to kill George not fall in love with him.dammit
Relationships: Clay|dream/georgenotfound (video blogging rpf)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 34





	1. That wasn't the plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> nobody expected it to turn out like this, with blood covered flowers, widowed mothers, and orphaned children, forbidden love- wait, what?

Fantasy AU idea 

—

With the war between the Whestakan empire and the Nupfand empire it was getting clearer everyday that one of them was going to fall. It had been fifteen years since the war began, a simple disagreement on how to handle and distribute captured war criminals from the years prior. Nobody expected it to turn out like this, with blood covered flowers, widowed mothers, and orphaned children. The people were suffering. It was clear. But the rich families of the royals continued the fight not because of ignorance or malice rather for honor and the inability to bite down on their own pride. Surrendering would mean falling, and a truce would be a huge embarrassment for both nations-such a big war to settle it like that? Trouble makers- that is what they would say.

Dream is far more passionate about the war than most. Ever since he had turned eighteen he knew he was going to die in glory, stories would be told about him for thousands of years, legends would arise from his heroic deeds and masterful assassinations. Schools would teach his life story and the students would love to be taught about him; young children from all around the world would daydream about becoming just like him. He would help people. But, like all good stories there would be an uphill battle, an obstacle in his way only there to delay his rise to fame. He expected this, for there to be people in his way, however he could have never expected this to happen.

Dream was an upperclassman from the Whestakan empire. Some would call him sheltered for not seeing the effects of battle on his nation, others would say he was exposed to war too early, him being only six years old when it all began. Being fed news and propaganda throughout his childhood promoting this mindset of glory and violence. He however, believed that his school had no effect on how he saw the war, and it truly was his destiny to die in battle and become a mortyr.

November first two-thousand eighty two, the prince of nupfand’s twenty-third birthday. The day Dream would learn the cold hard truth about this world. Dream was sat crouching on the sill of a window looking over the ballroom. Large colorful dresses and white and black suits roam mindlessly on the floor completely unaware of his presence. Dream places a hand over his mask; his iconic smiley mask; to be sure it's completely covering his face. His dark green cloak masterfully strapped to his body with leather belts covers his dark blonde hair. He hovers his right hand to hover over his dagger as he spots the prince. 

The prince is an average height man with light stubble prickling his chin and above lips. Freshly cut dark brown hair sits short atop his head and matches his deep chocolate brown eyes perfectly. His suit standing out amongst the numerous guests, his dark blue and white suit perfectly clashing against the sea of black and white. An easy target as Dream would put it. 

He could jump down now and kill him. It would be quick; in and out before anyone had a chance to graze him, and he wanted to, he truly did, however he had to sit in wait. He had to wait until his cue because they wanted information. What information they would be getting Dream had no clue, it was above his pay grade apparently, so he had no choice but to sit there and watch the people below him. 

It was honestly mesmerising, watching the people move around prince George as if he were a god, the patterns and shapes people would make on the dance floor, the way nobody could sense his presence; it was empowering. Empowering to know he had full power, full control, a feeling he has gotten scarily used to over the last three months of being an assassin. Three whole months of nonstop training, quickly climbing ranks and taking down his last superior until there were no more superiors to conquer. It was never enough, not that he never felt confident in himself or that he was never good enough (he was always good enough) rather he knew he could do better. Settling for mediocrity was never an option to him in the past, and it definitely wouldn't be in the future. He can only succeed.

He crouches a bit lower when he notices a party goer look up at the ceiling and walls admiring its beauty, or so he hopes. He hopes that they didn't hear the wooden support beams creak from underneath his feet, and he doubts they did, he was silent, but the reason for them to look up at him doesn't matter, all that matters was that they don’t see him. 

Quick and agile as a mouse he ducks behind another support beam and flattens his body against it. He hadn't even told his body to move. It was instinct at this point, like breathing. He could feel the hard wood flat against his back. His breathing light and deep at the same time. He could still see the people dancing below him. Circling and laughing. Dream couldn't help but to smile at this. His smile serves no purpose of course; his mask does that for him; except the fact he could let himself feel even more confident than before. He could smile and breathe easily knowing the party was almost completely unguarded save for a few armoured guards in the corners of the room, but they would be rendered useless before Dream even made his presence known. 

Slowly he peaks around the beam he was hiding behind, the person who was admiring the architecture had turned away. Perfect. Slowly he shuffles from behind the pillar and resumes his crouching position. He has to be patient. This is his only weakness and he knows it. They say that patience is a virtue but it sure as hell isn't one of his. All of his body wants to jump down and make a scene, watch as people panic as he executes their beloved prince in front of them. But he can't. So he has to sit. He has to sit and wait for an excruciating amount of time.

It began to feel like days not hours but finally Dream notices the queues form. All of the party goers line up into three lines, one of the women in front of the queen, one of the men in front of the king, and one of the young boys and girls in front of the prince. He scouts the kings line finding his Sap for his cue. Sap stood out too against the crowd, his orange suit clearly sticking out, and his long reddish brown hair and beard made him incredibly easy to spot. Whether that is a good thing or a bad thing neither knew. 

The guards moved position to stand beside the lines effectively keeping watch of every person. Their form was almost flawless for their purpose, protecting the royal family. However, almost flawless wouldn't be good enough, they’d need to be perfect to be able to defend against him. He's got a nickname, The Speedrunner, because of how fast and effectively he speedruns his assignments. 

Soon Sap is in the front of the king's line with his hands tucked into his dress-pant pockets. He looks far too relaxed to be standing in front of the king, a cocky smirk plastered on his face. And although Dream could not hear their conversation he could very clearly see when took his left hand out of his pocket to fix his tie. Perfect timing. 

\--- page one ---

It all happened in an instant. Sap pulled out his throwing knives and took out the guards and Dream dropped onto the dance floor. He lands slightly harder than expected, the floor must've been made of inforced redwood. Instead of the panic Dream had expected everybody ducked down onto the ground, kids huddled up to their parents as the king queen and prince stare down at them disapprovingly. Dream stood up to his full height, an intimidating 6’2 compared to his companions compact 5’6 and walked up in front of him, his crossbow already loaded strapped to his back. Dream grabbed his crossbow, and pointed it dead on the prince and watched as the disapproving look was replaced with genuine fear. “Dream,” the king spoke with authority, “drop the weapon.”

Dream chuckled lightly. He wanted to tell the king ‘no’ and have his badass moment but he held back. Silence could have more meaning than words after all. Instead he aimed his bow at the prince's head. The poor kid was too afraid to move, completely parilized. What an idiot. Dream shot, the arrow perfectly angled for George's forehead. But the young boy didn't fall to the ground lifeless. “What the fuck?” was all Dream could say as he was promptly tackled to the ground alongside Sap. 

He barely caught himself and rolled, kicking his attacker onto the ground. He pulled himself to his feet, looking down at the man who attacked him. The unknown man had a black cloak that covered his whole body. His eyes were bright, almost glowing white. He didn't look human, with teeth that looked more like fangs, large ears that came to a point, and something that looked to be a thin tail twitching like a cat's tail would underneath him. “What the fuck. What the fuck? What the actual fuck just happened?” Dream asked.

The strange non-human boy glared at him before springing to his feet once again, slicing at Dream with what looked to be a quartz dagger. He blocked the attack of course, twisting the creature's arm behind his back and holding his own dagger against its neck. “Someone tell me what the fuck is happeneing,” he demnanded pushing his knife into the things throat. 

A foot stomped down onto his own forcing him to drop the knife. Claws come for him. All he can see are the black claws scratching at his face. Instincts take over. He puts his arms in front of his face as claws scratch and stab into him. He hears Sapnap yell something, he can't make it out, but it sounds urgent. He's not thinking anymore, whatever that thing was it was affecting him. The only thoughts he could manage were run, prince, escape, go, so that's what he did. It was stupid, he knows that now, but he couldnt even prosess what was going on and was completly on auto pilet. So he wasn't thinking as he ran up to the prince and grabbed his wrist pulling him out of the closest window then ran. He ran as far as he could while he dragged the prince behind him with minimal resistance. The woods surrounding the castle allowed him to get lost relatively quickly, only around thirty minutes of nonstop running allowed him to lose all sense of direction. He slowed down once he saw a large divot in the ground with an overhang, or in other words the perfect place to stop. Dream let himself collapse against the side of the cave-like structure as he released George's wrist. He let himself slide down the edge of the wall, the adrenaline of being attacked wearing away allowing him to feel every cut littering his bloodied body. With a deep, shaky breath in he closed his eyes and let the pain spread across his body. One particularly large cut on his forearm bled through his clothing and let the cold afternoon wind seep into his skin. He should dress it or he's going to pass out, but he couldn't bring himself to move. Even opening his eyes was exhausting. When he did open his eyes however, he was pleasantly surprised to see George looking at him with a conflicted look on his face. Eyebrows pushed together and his bottom lip was hidden by teeth. “You can go you know. I can’t keep you here,” god Dream hated how pathetic he sounded, but he had accepted death long ago, this is what he wanted.

“But you would die,” what?

“Why would you care.” it was less of a question and more of a statement.

“I can’t just leave you here to bleed out. Nobody deserves to die alone in the woods.”

Dream wanted to argue but couldn't bring himself to. He wanted to yell and pull out his sword into his task, but he physically couldn't move his right arm. So instead he closed his eyes with another deep sigh. 

George swiftly began to dress his arm to the best of his ability, cleaning it out with a damp piece of his clothing he had ripped off Dreams suit. Dream hissed at the stinging pain stabbing at his arm. He bit his bottom lip which was visible from his mask being moved up his head, showing his lips only. “Shit that stings.”

Other than that the moment was quiet. Wind rustled the autumn leaves sending a few spireling gently to the ground and the birds that were beginning to fly southward chirped in the treetops. The occasional crackling of the leaves when an unknown animal scurries across the orange and red forest floor. The scenery would have been very relaxing if there wasn't a man bleeding out with another trying desperately to save his life. Few quiet groans and hisses of pain could be heard from said bleeding out man. “Why are you helping me,” Dream asked quietly. This was the first time in forever he felt any sort of fear, and it was absolutely terrifying. It terrified him to be at the mercy of someone, terrified him to not be in full control. He had forgotten what it was like to not have any power in a situation. “I told you, I couldn't let you die out here alone.”

“Why not?” 

“What do you mean why not? Do you want to die out here and get picked apart by wolves?” George's voice was shockingly accusatory for someone of his small stature, Dream figures he should have expected this, a prince would never get anywhere if he couldnt put his foot down.

Dream chuckled a bit, figures the prince would help him, but he couldn't help but be mad at himself. He was letting the man he was supposed to kill dress his wounds, how pathetic. Now how was he supposed to kill the man he owed his life to? Not that he couldn't do it, Dream had gained the ability to detach his emotions while at work, but that does not mean he’d want to or it would be easy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello! let me know if you want me to continue :)


	2. beauty or danger?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fuck. He was getting attached. This was going to be harder than he thought.

The sun silently dipped to where the sky met the trees, turning the horizon into a colorful mess of oranges, pinks and a multitude of reds. That was nature's one true kindness. The beauty of it all, the sky, the leaves, the flowers, the beauty of the birds songs and the wolves howls. Or maybe it wasn't a kindness at all. Maybe it was a mask similar to the one on Dreams face. A false sense of security to lure unsuspecting victims in, just to show the cruel horrors that beauty can hold and hide. 

Dream let out a heavy sigh while looking out to the disappearing sun. George hadn’t left yet, surprisingly. Instead he was sat next to him, looking much less interested in the sun than Dream. The prince was sitting, looking at the rocky soil underneath them with a regretful face. Dream figures he’ll let him be regretful, the man was probably just wishing he was home on his plush comfortable bed where his maids and servants would have to slave away to appease his every demand. He reckons he did those servants and maids a favor by stealing their much beloved master. Afterall, they all deserved a day off from the constant work they must go through under this entitled pricks rule. 

The sun fully dipped underneath the trees leaving the darkness of night in its place. The stars were clearly visible from where they sat so the full moon wasn't left all alone up there. Chills ran through Dreams body, he hadn't even noticed how cold it was getting. They didn't even have a fire, Dream was in no condition to try to haul logs and sticks into their small haven, but George had no clue what kindling was, and despite Dream's best instructions he could not figure it out. George's inability to listen to directions resulted in them being fireless in the cold night and a tense silence that was demanding to be broken. Dream didn’t even have his usual flint that was kept in the hilt of his sword because he lost it when the creature attacked him.

More chills racked through his body as he thought of the demon. Its eyes that pierced Dreams soul and the black claws that clouded his mind. Whatever that ‘thing’ was it wasn’t natural or beautiful. It was hideous and corrupt. Maybe it was an experiment gone wrong the royal family made. Or even worse an experiment gone right. Whatever it was it was terrifying and Dream hoped to never encounter anything like it again. A fate worse than death. “Are you cold?” a quiet voice beside him asked. Right, George was still there. Why was he still there? Maybe he thought Dream would protect him from the creatures in the woods in return for wrapping his wounds. If that's what he expected then he was going to be in for a very bad surprise once Dream healed up enough to kill him, “what?”

“I asked if you were cold,” George asked again. 

Right, cold. “You could say that,” Dream chuckled lightly, turning to look at the prince “why do you ask?”

George was looking right back at Dream, trying to make eye contact with the mask covering his face, “You keep shivering. We can try to make a fire again if you’re cold. I think I can do it.”

Dream looked over George's face scanning for any doubt, any hint of a joke, but it wasn't there. His eyes were set and his mouth was serious. Infact his whole face was relaxed yet decided. It appeared he had already made his mind about this and was going to try no matter what Dream had to say, and his face was also red from the cold. It appeared that he needed the fire as much as Dream did. “Okay,” He spoke after a small quiet moment of understanding, “go get some wood and dry leaves. We’ll try again”

  
  


This time the fire making process was much less frustrating. George got up to get wood and leaves as asked and placed them down a few feet away from where Dream sat, and Dream guided George through the directions. This time George listened carefully to each instruction, making a pyramid with the medium sized sticks and placing bark and leaves inside of it. He put the larger logs around the base then he moved to making the actual flame. He took a flat log, some dead dried out grass, and put it at the base of a flat-ish fern log. Then he took a hardwood stick and rolled the base of it against the end until there was a small pit made, “You’re doing great, keep going when you see smoke, only stop when I say so,” Dream guided.

George didn’t respond, but kept going. He kept turning the stick until sweat started to bead at his forehead and smoke began to rise from the log, even then he didn’t stop, but kept his pace, not speeding up or slowing down. Consistency. “Good, good, now stop and drop the ember into the grass and lightly blow on it so the grass lights. Once you get a fire put it under the teepee and keep blowing on it as lightly as you can,” and to Dreams' surprise, George did it. There was a fire just about a foot tall glowing in front of him.

They sat looking at each other with a knowing look, a sense of warmth and pride fell upon them both, and not just from the fire. Dream smiled, the toothiest grin he could manage as the flame cast a warm orange light into their cave. George smiled back. A small, shy smile, but a smile nonetheless. A real smile. Not the fake one he put on at the party. A smile that said he was proud of what he did. “Good job,” whispered over the crackle of flames. 

George pulled himself up; the orange glow from the fire reflecting from his sweat covered forehead; and he sat himself down back next to Dream where he sat before. “Good job,” Dream whispered again, quieter, “thanks,” George whispered back.

Fuck. Dream wouldn’t say it but he was proud. George was able to get over himself for just long enough to listen and get something productive done. Fuck. He was getting attached. This was going to be harder than he thought.

Dream could no longer tell the difference between the prince's beauty and danger and that would be his fall. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey im officially back!! i wrote this all today- so if the writing feels different from last chapter thats why. thats also why its shorter, most chapters will be around 1000 words. im really proud of this one, i tried more. please keep commenting and leaving kudos! leave theories if you like! i love seeing what you all think.
> 
> chapter word count- 1092

**Author's Note:**

> lmk if you want me to continue ;0


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